The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying: “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness. Jeremiah 31:3 (NIV)
We arrived back home from Guatemala last night at 10:45 PM. We should have gotten home earlier because our flight arrived 20 minutes early, but there were only three people tending to customs in Miami yesterday, and it took two hours to get cleared. Imagine only three people keeping out the terrorists. And a cocky Border Control guy with a drug dog who seemed (the guy, not the dog) more interested in dividing us into first two lines, then, four, then three again.
I was supposed to go to work today for a special event, but called in sick. I am feeling foggy brained and puny. Some of it is due to still being sick from complications of the asthma I was having before I left. We have had a whopping allergy season with trees spraying nasty yellow pollen everywhere. I don’t know what I was thinking when I signed up to go on a trip in March. I always get sick this month. When I called my doctor before I left to complain about my symptoms and check to make sure I was taking the right medications, he said, “The best prescription I can give you is to get out of Florida until the pollen season is done,” so I obediently and eagerly got on the plane to Guatemala.
My asthma got worse so that by Sunday of last week, youngest son, the Paramedic, was shaking his head woefully and threatening me with a Guatemalan hospital stay. He finally convinced me to start a course of Prednisone that I had brought along just in case. He said it was so “I” meaning him, could sleep because my coughing had gotten so intense that it sounded like I was about to pop a lung. I think it was a little traumatic for him since when he was about five one of his good friends’ moms died of asthma.
The prednisone gave me a burst of energy that lasted until Thursday although I kept coughing and hacking, dashing to the “break” room to avoid spewing germs over the babies, and living off cough drops. It was okay, because they were already all sick when we got there. In fact, this trip, our team was blessed with no intestinal illnesses, but many of us got colds, runny noses and sore throats from an outbreak of upper respiratory illness that began in the Bunny room and worked its way around. By Thursday, my lungs sounded crackly and even people sitting next to me on the bus could hear it. After a coughing spell, the Malnutrition Center nurse came up to me and frowned. I told her, “Just asthma,” and she shook her head, pointed at me and said, “No asthma.”
She was right. I went to the doctor this morning and he changed my antibiotic, extended the course of prednisone and pronounced I have bronchitis. But, when he asked about my work in Guatemala, he also listened kindly as I cried and confessed I missed my babies. Then, he wrote me a third prescription that says, “Severe homesickness. Recommend return to Guatemala.”
I will frame that piece of paper as a special memory. And as ammunition because immediately upon returning home from the doctor, I signed up to go back in July. Husband is going to kill me. I think I have a reprieve until Monday. He is in Daytona until tomorrow, and tomorrow is my birthday so maybe he will wait to yell at me for a few days at least.
He has no idea what has come over me with this craving for the children in Guatemala. I am not sure he ever will even if he comes on a trip with me. I am not sure that youngest son even understands and he saw it this week. In fact, he confessed some confusion about how I can love those children so intensely and they are not even mine.
One day, I was lying on the floor in front of Victoria and Thelma, two of my little “pollos”, chicks, the children from about 1-2 years old. Funny thing, I was the leader of the Chicks team this year, me who has so little knowledge about children, but we managed to do okay and even introduced some games, books and music into our day. Anyway, I was lying on the floor in front of them, looking into their faces and teaching them how to push a button on a toy that would make a Mickey Mouse pop up out of a box. And I burst into tears with wonder at how I had gotten there. How could I be so content to sit in front of two little girls who are not mine and mindlessly play with the same toy over and over again? All those years with my own kids when I secretly thought toddlerhood a boring time, how could I just now be discovering such joy in that moment? How can I be so intent upon memorizing every expression on their faces? I guess I will never really understand either.
I hope you have been keeping up with the blog posts on Orphans Heart that I wrote this week. That will give you a taste for the work that we did and the feelings of the team members about the children and at the center. The men did a lot of work on the facility, painting, repairing and cleaning. Youngest son’s clothes are ruined, covered in yellow and blue paint. He repaired the play sets, repainted them and tied new ropes for the swings and climbing ladders. He climbed up into soffits, trimmed hedges and mowed. He painted the outside of the building and the inside of the courtyard. And despite everyone’s attempts, managed to be the only one on the team, all men included who did not change a diaper all week. That’s okay, I was so grateful to have him with me and to have time with him this week. Perhaps, someday, he will know how much it meant to me to share the week with him.
Youngest son got to meet his “other brother” who wears plaid shirts and jeans just like he does, but who has dark hair instead of brown. Billy is still at the center and though his mother still comes to visit occasionally, it looks like he will be there for a while longer at least because he will be having some surgery to repair a genital defect. All week, I watched for him whenever our paths crossed. He is in with the big kids now and I was in with the toddlers. Often, someone would come running for me and say, “I’ll stay here, you go. You have to see what Billy is doing now.” Because this week, Billy seemed on the verge of a breakthrough. He has never spoken that I know of before this week. But, this week, Billy spoke. Go here to read about his fascination with Shelly’s IPOD cube. http://fbchinternationalchildcare.blogspot.com/2012/03/guatemala-march-12.html I will never forget that look of wonder on his face.
The next day, when Wendy came in with the cube, Billy said, “Cube” and patted her pocket where he knew she kept the IPOD. It was a fantastic day, and we all rejoiced. After that, we noticed that when the children were singing, he was humming and trying to mouth some words.
On Thursday morning, I knew that my time with him was drawing to a close and was alarmed that the nurse came and took him out of the audience when the girls were performing a play. I left my chicks in the care of others and followed her to where she had placed him in his bed. I could not understand her reasoning, but it was clear, he had to stay in the room. She did agree that I could take him up and hold him, so we moved into the middle of the room where he could still hear the music and Billy and I danced. I have never been very graceful. My husband and I almost got divorced when we took dancing lessons, but on that morning, I was a princess and danced with my prince as Billy and I dipped and swayed, and I sang to him every lullaby that I know.
I prayed for him and asked God to protect him and to make him strong and healthy. I prayed that God will find a place for him and keep him safe. The whole time I did, we continued to dance and he gazed into my eyes as I looked into his. I felt like it was a sacred moment and prayed that even if we never see each other again, someday in Heaven, he will recognize me. I did have to laugh when I realized he was merely looking at his reflection in my glasses, but I prayed that he would see himself as I see him, whole and happy and loved. Then, the nurse came to get Billy to take him for an ultrasound to prepare for his surgery which will be in a few weeks and I went to the break room and literally broke down.
I was afraid I would not see him again before we left, but he did get back in time for a birthday party we held for two of our team members that afternoon. He got his turn at the piñata and once again, I helped make sure he got his share of candy when it broke. And then, after cake and ice cream, it was time to go. I made sure to tell his nanny that he was my boy. Though I used sign language and limited Spanish, she knew. I asked her to take special care of him and she smiled and promised. When we drove away, she was standing next to him caressing his head.
How could my heart have been so changed by one little boy? I cannot describe it. I have birthed two children, but will have four beside me in heaven. Two strong, fine sons. My adopted daughter who never fails to delight me with her intelligence and compassion will join us. And then, there will be Billy, who is just now starting to come out of his shell. Who knows who he will become? I cannot wait to see. I hope that prescription has a lot of refills. 
Sweet child. Rest up! And Happy Birthday! xoxoxo
I know why. Your own children were never in danger of dying or living a less-than life due to something as simple as malnutrition or lack of medical care. You love your kids, but you always knew they would be safe in that way. You cannot know that about Billy, so he needs that extra care – from you and from any other volunteers or nurses or doctors he may cross paths with. It's like my mom says, the child you love the most is the one who needs you.